[pynt-devel] few feet away, were thrusting th

[Westbrooke <ca...@sa...>]

.. I came back to Glora and Alan. Under my arm was a huge cylinder
vial. It was black, the enlarging drug. I set it down. They stared at me
in my bloodstained garments. "George! You're--" "His blood, not mine." I
tried to smile. "Here's the drug he carried. Evidently Polter was only
sending him out because I found just the one drug." "What'll we do with
it?" Alan demanded. "Look at the size of it!" "Destroy it," said Glora.
"See, that is not difficult." She tugged at the huge stopper, and
exposed a few of the pellets--to us as large as apples. "The air will
soon spoil it." We left it in the tunnel. I also had with me a great
roll of paper which had been folded in the giant's belt, with the drug
cylinder. We unrolled it, and hauled its folds to a spread some ten feet
long. It was covered with a scrawled handwriting in pencil, but its
giant characters seemed thick blurred strokes of charcoal. We could not
read it; we were too close. Alan and Glora held it up against the tunnel
wall. From a distance I could make it out. It was a note written in
English, signed "Polter," evidently to one of his men. It read: _The two
prisoners, kill them at once. That is better. It will be too dangerous
to wait for my return. Put their bodies with their airplane. Crash it a
mile from my gate._ Full directions for our death followed. And Polter
said he would return by dawn or soon after. That gave me a start. By
dawn! We had been traveling four or five hours. It was already dawn up
there now! "No," Glora explained, "the time in here is different